


R E Y E S

by AkireMG



Series: Supernatural AU's [3]
Category: Shameless (US), Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Vampires, like... kinda mentioned, so noel plays vladimir on twiligth so...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 03:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkireMG/pseuds/AkireMG
Summary: But now, after centuries, Ian is coming back.The forgotten king is returning and no one, not even Mickey, will stop him.He can’t.He doesn’t want to.





	R E Y E S

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be honest, i don't even know what this is, i just wanted to write it and post it so here it is

He can feel it in his bones. It’s like a mockingbird’s heart thrumming inside them.

He feels it in his flesh and blood. There are waves of something so ancient and powerful his genes can recognize faster than the rest of him.

He always feels it in his skin. It takes the form of phantom caresses that his mind will never forget no matter how many centuries he lives without them.

Today all those sensations are especially vivid. The source has more energy than usual. It’s vibrating so mighty, with such insistency, that it’s impossible to ignore it like he chooses to do most of days. The strength of the sensations speaks of a certain level of consciousness, which can only mean one thing.

_He_ is staring to wake up, and when he does, everything will change. Everything will be at risk. His sister, his friends, his-

“My love.”

Vladimir opens his eyes.

Stefan is looking at him with concern. His eyes are so gentle, so intense, and his posture so stiff, that Vladimir can only respond by offering his hand to him. Stefan smiles and takes it. He intertwines their fingers, strokes Vladimir’s knuckles, each touch careful, knowing.

“What is it, darling?” Stefan asks placing his other hand on Vladimir’s neck, holding him firmly but with tenderness. It acts like an anchor. Vladimir can concentrate in the present –in the real, sensible world— thanks to Stefan’s presence, his hands, his voice, his _soul_.

“Nothing new,” he says breathing slowly, enjoying Stefan’s hand on his neck, the way it grounds him. “It’s just getting stronger.”

“Aren’t Jane and Alec enough?”

They never were.

Their gifts were supposed to be just a temporary solution, but in two millennia they haven’t found another way to have this issue under control. Jane and Alec have been getting stronger too, but it’s nothing compared to _his_ power. Two vampires can do so much against their sire, against the one than gave them life and sorrow, death and joy.

“No anymore,” he mutters. “He… We can’t stop him from waking up,” it’s too late. It’s been to late since the moment the managed to put him to sleep. “What will we do when he regains all his strength? All his memories?”

_< <What will I do when he remembers me?>>_, Vladimir doesn’t say that, but it’s his main fear. Stefan kisses his cheek, holds him tight against his chest, and waits for him to calm down a little.

Vladimir is not one to be afraid of anything, but this? _This_ terrifies him. It makes him feel human again, weak and hopeless, broken and alone. It takes him back to a time when his name was other, when his hair was black as an abyss and his eyes were the color of the ocean and not that of blood.

But it’s all a lie.

His blond hair, his red eyes.

They are a lie.

An illusion, the manifestation of a wish that could be broken anytime by the right forces, by the right man with the right memories.

That’s why he’s so afraid. Because the life he has known for the las few centuries could be destroyed in an instant. Because the love he feels for Stefan could be shattered to pieces under the weight of another that has existed for so long it’s futile to try and trace it in the millennia.

“He won’t get to you, _dragul meu,_ ” he says like a vow, like he can stop the being that not even Jane and Alec with their ever-growing power will be able to contain for much longer. “I will kill him if I have to.”

Oh God. _Kill him_ , Stefan says so easily. _Kill him_ , he promises without thinking. _Kill him_ , as if Vladimir will let him try to.

“No, no,” he shakes his head, his forehead pressing against Stefan’s. “He would kill you. He won’t hesitate and you’re not as old as him. Not even I stand a chance, and his blood was the one that changed me… not even I, and my… I can’t defeat him. I don’t know how.”

Because he loves him –always has and always will; and how can you defeat the origin of everything you are, the reason of your existence, the feeling that motivated you for… for _so long_?—.

It doesn’t matter if he now calls himself Vladimir, if he is a four (almost five) thousand old vampire that is more powerful every day, if Stefan is so dear to him. None of that matters when deep down he knows he is no other than Mykhailo.

Mykhailo Oleksandr Milkovich, once ruler of a kingdom so vast and diverse it should have been obvious it would fall and burn impressively, that it couldn’t held itself together when its other king lost his mind to an illness no magic, gift or alchemy could ever cure.

Ian –Eoin before times changed and words were adapted— Clayton Gallagher, a forgotten king that reigned with authority and justice, that listened to his subjects, to their needs and fears. A wonderful king that could have been remembered with love if it wasn’t for his fall into madness.

Ian, the reason why now vampires hide, why they hold little power and stay in the shadows. The reason other creatures don’t trust them, don’t _want_ them, and always seethe with fury when a vampire has the _audacity_ to propose something related to politics. The reason the Vulturi are so hated by every other community of magical, immortal beings as nothing more than horrible, corrupted, suspicious leeches. The reason Mickey took the name Vladimir, made his hair blond and his eyes blood and never said Ian’s name out-loud again after the war ended.

But now, after centuries, Ian is coming back.

The forgotten king is returning and no one, not even Mickey, will stop him.

He can’t.

He _doesn’t want to_.

He loves Stefan – _God, does he love Stefan_ —, but this love won’t ever win over his bond with Ian. Nothing will ever be more than Ian, his king, his lover, his beloved, half of his soul and mind… Mickey is Ian’s –Ian has never been Mickey’s—, and when they are around each other, Mickey can’t be anything else. He’s consumed by his love, his often-blind devotion, and Ian loves that. He loves that Mickey loves him, that he has killed and lied for him, that he would do it a thousand more times without feeling remorse.

To Ian, Mickey’s a weapon, a shield, a companion that won’t ever leave him. Mickey is convenient and familiar. Surely Ian will want him by his side when he comes back to the world to break chaos and try to reconstruct his kingdom. Mickey’s power will be so useful then…

“I don’t know how to,” Mickey repeats pressing against Stefan’s body, trying to crawl under his skin to never leave again. He’s sure Ian’s comeback will tear them apart. There are just a few solutions to this problem, and none of them will give Mickey the opportunity of continuing his lie as Vladimir, as Stefan’s mate. He always knew it. There is only so much an illusion can give you before ending. “But I need to figure it out.”

Even if it’s the last thing he does, Mickey will figure out how to forever keep under control Ian’s potential to destroy.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading  
> like a said, i have no idea what it is, i just had this weird idea and decided to write some of it


End file.
